


Catnaps

by fictionalcandie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Napping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-14
Updated: 2008-07-14
Packaged: 2017-12-09 23:59:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalcandie/pseuds/fictionalcandie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cats are generally thought to be the only creatures who’ve mastered the art of sleeping while they’re still awake. James can try, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catnaps

James is awake still.

He’s lying in a meadow, by a little pond, on a blanket that doesn’t scratch or bunch uncomfortably beneath him, and it would be perfect if it weren’t a bright yellow that reflects the light up into his eyes, forcing him to keep them closed. He doesn’t really mind, though, because he can picture this scene perfectly in his mind, if he wants, and he’s content to drift in a mild, smiling haze of tranquility.

The sun weighs heavy on his skin, heavier against the little clothing he’s wearing. A bee, or something of equally busy industry, flits by, its buzz a counterpoint to the long, sleepy exhale of the faintly stirring breeze, which does hardly anything to dispel the thick heat of the humid afternoon. It almost ruffles his hair, and floats oddly over his closed eyelids and his temples, free for once of his glasses.

From beside him comes a rustle, the barely-there slide of hot, sweaty skin against itself, and then a slender, pale arm eases slickly across his stomach. It’s not heavy, but it’s very warm, sticky against his bare skin, and it should be uncomfortable but it’s not. A moment later, lithe curves in a green bathing suit press against his side, and long pale legs to match the arm twine themselves between his, a head of damp auburn hair moving to pillow itself on his shoulder.

Lily is awake again.

“Did you know you snore?” he asks, turning his head just enough to buss the mess of red, moisture-induced frizz at her temple.

“Only to drown out yours,” she mumbles smilingly, into his shoulder, and he feels her lips against the edge of his collarbone. He shivers, even as she says, “You sound like a freight train.”

He laughs, and moves his arm to encircle her shoulders and draw her closer, ignoring the clamminess of their skin in favor of the delight of her touch. “You must have been dreaming, love,” he teases into her hair, mouth tasting sweat and the magically cleaned pond water, and something gentler and purer that smacks of devotion. “I didn’t sleep.”

“You were so tired—” she begins to exclaim, half sitting up on one elbow, leaning over and looking down, searchingly, into his face. What she sees there, the relaxed joy of it, calms her, and she smiles back at him. “Have a good rest, though?”

“Blissful,” he promises, arching his neck to put their lips together, kissing her.

A bundle of blankets on the far edge of the blanket, resting in the single patch of shade in the whole meadow and protected by a cooling charm, begins to move oddly, as if something inside is squirming and wriggling about. Suddenly a loud wail erupts from it, and its occupant struggles to sit up, all tousled, sweaty black hair and large, wide green eyes blinking sleepily; the creature looks towards his parents reproachfully, and lets out another grumpy cry, holding out his arms imploringly.

Harry is awake, too.

“Come here, birthday boy,” murmurs Lily soothingly, while James sits upright and leans over to pick up their son, “Come to Mummy and Daddy.”


End file.
